The Child of Prophecy
by ChildDevil04
Summary: When Harry Potter is targeted by Voldemort's curse he is sent to Middle Earth to fulfill a prophecy. At 16 he joins Frodo and the others on the quest of the Ring and learns some things that will be very helpful when he returns to Earth to battle Voldemort. No Harry Pairing at the moment, but heavily implied slash.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own anything that has anything to do with Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings. Though it would be pretty cool if I did. All recognizable characters belong to their respective authors et al, the rest of the ideas came from my own mind.

AN: Just looking to gauge some interest and see how this story might be received. It's my first time writing a LotR fanfic.

A Harry Potter/ Lord of the Rings Crossover fiction.

**The Prologue**

_Midgaard, Oct 31__st__._

"_Avada Kedavra._" With the utterance of those two ugly, terrifying words a bolt of brilliant green light shot towards the young occupant of the white wooden crib in the corner of the room. The occupants eyes, the same brilliant jade green, widened in terror before the light struck the forehead of the toddler clutching the wooden spindles of his crib. The moment after the light of that terrible curse struck there was a flash of blindingly bright white and when it cleared the room was empty of any living thing. The self proclaimed Dark Lord Voldemort's body had fallen to the floor and was slowly turning into ash. And the white wooden crib stood there, totally empty, silently damning. For that night more than one prophecy came to pass.

_Middle Earth_

On that same night in a realm not so different from our own, and yet so very far away, a wandering old man stopped to eye the night sky. He was garbed completely in grey from the tip of his tall pointed hat to the tips of his pointed boots. In one hand he held a tall, gnarled wooden staff, topped with a gem of some sort. Puzzlement knotted his grey brow as he attempted to remember what it was about this particular nights sky that had drawn his attention. Something niggled at the back of his mind, something he'd read long ago in the dusty tomes within the belly of Isengard.

A particularly bright shooting star admist the myriad of stars shooting across that nights sky caught his attention for a minute before, with a shake of his head, he resumed picking his way across the rocky countryside. Had he watched that star a bit longer he might have seen the flash of white that accompanied that star alone hitting the earth. Instead he was mumbling to himself about the rising darkness as he made his way on his journey.

Two figures clad in blue did not share their distant friend's preoccupation. They remembered well the words that they had read so long ago.

_Among to the ground of Middle Earth will fall_

_In a flash of brilliant white light admist the shooting stars_

_The one without whose aid Middle Earth shall fall._

_The loss of his family will send him flying_

_Here to reside until such time as our evil is gone_

_Whence he must return to his own land trying_

_His people to save with the knowledge here gained._

When they saw the flash of white the taller of the two men sighed heavily. "So it is starting. I had feared it might be so after the last letter we received." His companion responded in no other way than to start down the hill, tugging his taller counterpart by the hand. The taller man chuckled, "yes, yes we should go find the source of that light. I'm sure whoever it is will be confused to find himself here after defeating his enemy."

AN: So? What do you think? Should I post some more (I have 9 chapters written) or should I leave it to collect dust on my hard drive?


	2. Chapter 1

AN: Thanks so much to everyone who has favorited and reviewed this story, especially williamsangel88, wolfawaken,Soldier2000, and jau0062 for being the first reviewers to this story. Hopefully you all will like where I take it. I have done a fair amount of research for this story, if I screw up any of the Elvish well languages aren't my thing but I'm trying! Canon will, obviously, not always be followed but it will be fun nonetheless!

**Chapter One**

_5 years later on Middle Earth_

"Papa, papa!" A young, exhuberant boy burst into the cottage yelling at the top of his lungs. "Come see what _atar_ and I caught for supper." He grabbed his papa's hand and pulled the tall, unresisting man behind him. The boy's jade green eyes sparled with mischief as he regaled his papa with the tale of how his _atar_ had been so focused on something he alone could see that the large fish he had hooked had caught him off guard and he had nearly tipped into the river. _Atar_, when they reached him, was not nearly as amused as his mate or their son.

"_Venno_," came an aggrieved voice. "Your son is in major trouble."

"_Onya_? Why is he _onya_ when you are upset _ninya melindo_?"

The boy in question giggled. "Papa, _atar_ is mad because maybe the _lingwe_ did not pull him down alone. Am I an _Istari_ papa?" The two men in sea blue robes stared at their son with wide eyes.

"_Onya_, I think it is time _atya_ and I had a bit of a chat with you."

"Later, after supper _melindo_, _yon_ needs to eat, he is still a growing boy after all." The cheer that greeted that statement caused both men to laugh, though it was a bit strained with the knowledge of what was to come.

After a meal of baked fish and potatoes the small family settled before the fire. "_Onya_," the taller began, "it is time you learned some things. I have to say that _atya_ and I do not know if you an _Istar_, the singular for _Istari_ my boy. We found you in the wild five years ago. But, we suspect you not only are an _Istar_ but also that you are the one whose coming has been foretold. We found you on the night of the Shooting Stars. It is said that one will fall to Middle Earth in a flash of light and without his aid Middle Earth will fall. There is more, but now is not the time for that. You have always know us as _atar_ and papa, but we have other names. The men of Middle Earth call us _Ithryn Luin_. Or, individually, we are known as Alatar," he indicated himself, "and Pallando," he waved to his husband.

"We were sent here by the Valar in the 2nd Age to combat the forces of Sauron. And, until the last five years we have worked exclusively to this goal for ages of men." He sighed here. "Alas, evil walks strong in this world and we have had our work cut out for us keeping to a minimum the forces Sauron gains from these Eastern Lands. But we have gotten off topic. Sort of. In the last few years there have been stirrings among the dark ones. I think Sauron may be coming back and that you, my darling son, are going to be needed to defeat him."

At this point Pallando entered the conversation for the first time. "_Holaleimas_ you are quiet. What have you to say?" The gentle teasing in his voice as he uttered his nickname for his son seemed to break a sort of dam in the boy.

"I'm adopted? But I thought I was your _yon_? How . . . why?" He looked between the men with tears brimming in his eyes. "I don't understand."

Alatar knelt before the confused boy. "Raumoquildeo, as your fathers name proclaims Sirdaugion. You are now, and forever, our son. But we did not beget you. Somewhere you have another _atar_ and an _ontaril_. But, if you are the one of the prophecy then I am afraid they are dead. Pallando and I love you no less for not being those who begat you. You are the son of our hearts. We don't tell you this to hurt you but to begin to prepare you. _Maia_ or not you have the powers of an _Istar_. We must train you to use them. And when the time comes, we will have to let you go to fulfill your destiny."

"Train me? Will I be able to do all the neat stuff you and _atar_ can do?"

"Perhaps my boy. We will have to see what you have a knack for. And how powerful you are."

"When can we start?" Excitement filled Raumoquildeo's voice.

"Tomorrow _maquetimao_. Will that be soon enough my curious one?"

Translations:

Atar: Father

Venno: Husband

Onya: my son

Ninya melindo: two parts: ninya possessive my; melindo male lover

Lingwe: fish

Atya: your father or daddy

Yon: son

Ithryn Luin: The Blue Wizards

Holaleimao: apt to babble

Raumoquildeo: quiet storm

Sirdaugion: a mash up of the translations of the meanings of Alatar and Pallando; roughly something alone the lines of son of warrior and ruler

Ontaril: mother

Maia: spirits descended to help the Valar shape the world

Maquetimao: curious


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

_Ten Years Later on Middle Earth_

Raumoquildeo moved through the darkened forest quietly. His papa and _atar_ had taught him to move as the _Eldalie_ did and he did his best to put their careful teaching to good use. The map stowed in his pack labeled this as Fangorn Forest. He was just going to try and get through it without dwelling on the ever growing list of names he'd like to give it instead, names he thought might be more descriptive.

His papa had received an urgent letter via a very large eagle from _Olorin_, who was apparent known in these lands as Gandalf. The letter had spoken of his possibly having found the _One Ring_ and bid either Alatar or Pallando to come as quickly as possible to Rivendell, home of the Elven Lord Elrond. Alatar and Pallando, however, had their hands quite full suppressing armies and necromancers from rising up to join Sauron. Neither of them could be spared, they were stretched thin enough as it was. Instead they had sent him, their son, to take a place amongst the others seeking to defend Middle Earth.

Raumoquildeo was sure they believed the time had come for him to fulfill the prophecy that had brought him, a man with the powers of an _Istar_, to Middle Earth. Raumoquildeo was no so eager to fulfill the prophecy however. He wasn't ready to leave home forever and that blasted thing said he would have to go somewhere else to save his own people, whoever they were, which would no doubt require leaving Middle Earth. This place was his home, though not, he allowed himself mentally, this blasted forest he was currently walking through.

His objections had been overruled, his parents had stood firm and here he was, sliding through a dark forest on his way to Rivendell. At least the eagle had brought him to the banks of the river Anduin. It had threatened to leave him on the shore of the Sea of Rhur but a threat of retaliation from a trained wizard was enough to bring the mighty bird to its senses. It was proud, not stupid.

Raumoquildeo was headed for the Gap of Rohan since, to the best of his papa's knowledge, Moria was still abandoned and definitely not the safest place to try venturing through alone no matter who you were. He had contemplated heading for the pass somewhere near Carrack but remembered hearing something about goblins having taken over that part of the Misty Mountains. All in all the Gap seemed like his best bet even if it meant he was going out of his way.

Lady Luck, however, was not travelling with Raumoquildeo, especially not as he passed by Isengard. His presence was felt by _Curumo_ who sent some wolves to herd Raumoquildeo to him. Curumo was not happy to see that the _Ithryn Luin_ had trained another, a human at that. Curumo banished Raumoquildeo to the top of the tower of Orthanc, a cold, inhospitable place, to wait while he, Curumo, decided what to do about such treachery. Curumo did not know, however, that Raumoquildeo had developed his abilities to commune with nature and the beasts of it. Using this talent, and his own innate talent as an _Istar_ with the power to change the shape of things Raumoquildeo was able to fashion himself a sling harness that lifted him with only the strength of four sparrows. The sweet birds conveyed him past the Misty Mountains and, with his most grateful thanks, deposited him on the Old South Road. It was while heading along the road that he encountered a party of men also headed north.

Translations:

Eldalie: Elven-folk

Olorin: Gandalf's original name in Valinor; Quenya meaning dream or vision of the mind; also spelt Olorion

Curumo: Saruman's original name in Valinor; Quenya meaning cunning; Curunir in Sindarin, Saruman in Common Tongue


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

_The Great South Road_

Raumoquildeo had been resting, nestled between two surprisingly comfortable rocks a bit off the road, when he first became aware of the group of men. He could feel the thundering of their horse's hooves reverberating through the ground and channeling into his body. However, the magic he had used with the sparrows to escape Orthanc had drained him greatly, for all magic comes with a price. Because of this he was barely able to force his eyes open before he found himself staring at the point of a sword hovering mere inches from his face.

"What business do you have here?" An imperious voice demanded.

Raumoquildeo was too tired to play the word games he may have attempted on any other day. "The same as you I expect," he said cautiously. "I have business that requires that I travel north."

"For what purpose? What business takes you to the North?"

"I fail to see how that is any business of yours." Perhaps he was not as tired as he had originally thought. The constantly imperious tone was starting to grate on his nerves and he could feel his body coming more awake with each passing moment.

The owner of the sword, and the annoying tone of voice, actually chuckled after a moment. "Perhaps not, and yet I still wish to know _tachran_."

"I'm going to see Olorin, an old friend of my _atar_. He is presently waiting for me in Rivendell." The sword jerked for a moment, as if in surprise, and then it disappeared. A moment later a tanned, broad hand, nicked with many scars and appropriately calloused for a swordsman, was hauling Raumoquildeo to his feet. Piercing grey eyes stared at him from a handsome, noble face framed with wavy dark hair. The owner of the grey eyes was tall and obviously a warrior by the way he held himself. For an unaccountable reason Raumoquildeo found himself relaxing though he was still held in the strangers grip. Perhaps it was the aura of certainty that surrounded the man, the obviously capable warriorness that fairly radiated from him.

"I am Boromir, son of Denethor who is Steward of Gondor. I, myself, am a Captain of Gondor. Who are you?"

"Raumoquildeo, called Sirdaugion. What is your business on this road, Captain of Gondor?"

Boromir laughed at the question being turned on himself before answering, his eyes still sparking with merriment. "I too seek Rivendell and the counsel of the Lord Elrond." He put Raumoquildeo back onto his feet and looked him over. "You best travel with us lad, I'm not sure a scrawny thing like you can protect yourself out here." A flash of teeth in a broad grin told Raumoquildeo that this had been meant as a joke and so he kept quiet about his capabilities, especially his _Istar_ powers. No need to borrow trouble after all, no need at all.

From there the journey went quite smoothly all things considered. Boromir had been travelling with only one other companion and a few packhorses, one of which was commandeered and given to Raumoquildeo to ride so that he would be able to keep up with the other two men. Unfortunately, in Tharbad there was a freak accident that lost them both the horses and Boromir's companion. The bridge across the Greyflood River in the abandoned city was rotting and collapsed as they crossed it.

Boromir had sulked for days after that, especially when it became apparent that his "scrawny" friend could, and did, walk him into the ground. Raumoquildeo simply laughed at him and continued on the way. He was used to walking as he and his papa and _atar_ had walked everywhere back home, they did not own even one horse. Boromir, however, had grown up in a city that traded regularly with Rohan and in a family that prized itself on having some of the best horses outside of Rohan. He had walked only indoors up to this point and was finding traversing nature this way to be rather different than any other mode of travel.

Despite this the journey passed as swiftly as possible on foot. Both Boromir and Raumoquildeo were glad to finally reach _Imladris,_ however. They had lost most of their provisions with the horses and while Raumoquildeo was a little more used to foraging they were both heartily sick of eating whatever they found as they walked along.

Raumoquildeo could not help but stare about himself in wonder as he and Boromir descended into the valley of Rivendell. It was like nothing he had ever seen before. Boromir was chuckling a bit at his young friends awestruck face, but only a bit for he could remember his own first visit to Rivendell and the wonder that it had inspired in a young boy who till then had had poetic words only for his sword.

Translations

Tachran: little one in Gaelic (according to a web translator, I speak no Gaelic)

Imladris: Sindarin for "deep dale of the cleft" referring to its position in the valley; Rivendell is the Common Speech translation


End file.
